Moments
by poisonivy231
Summary: Life has its moments, the good and the bad, those we forget and those we dream of. Life is unpredictable. Series of one-shots relating to successive episodes, which DO get longer, I promise. From chapter ten onwards, chapter titles are song titles.
1. Fight

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**Grey's Anatomy **_**or any of its characters.**

**Author's Note: Hey. This is my first fanfic I've ever written, so if you have ANY thoughts, good, bad, or you're just a bit bored, PLEASE click on that review button!! You know you want to…I'll give you a virtual hug!!**

**Alex POV**

I stared at the sight before me. I wasn't sad. More, exasperated. I should have known. I _had _ known, really.

Izzie stepped back from the air she had been embracing and stared wistfully at the form I assume she saw before her. Then she saw me.

"Alex…" Her huge eyes bored into mine, filled with shock, and something I couldn't name. Happiness, almost. But how could she possibly be happy? Unless it was him. But I couldn't think about that right now. It hurt too much. Not that anyone would ever know.

I turned to leave. "No, Alex, don't. Just listen to me – "

"What exactly do want me to hear, Izzie? That you didn't just kiss thin air and feel good about it? Or do you just want to tell me who you think you're seeing, as if I don't already know." My voice rose as I spoke, and I could see the pain I was causing reflected back at me in those brown eyes, so much bigger than normal. I liked it.

I slammed out of that cursed house; I couldn't be in there any longer. Those eyes…

**Izzie POV**

I watched Alex leave, and turned to Denny. For a second I couldn't find him, and my heart constricted. And he was there, before I could miss him any more. He shrugged at me.

It was the shrug that did it. I walked into Denny's arms and cried onto his warm shoulder.


	2. Conversation

**Author's Note: Just a bit of humour to make you feel happy (hopefully****, if it doesn't make you cry with embarrassment). I don't always have to write depressing stuff, you know. I am, in fact, an extremely anti-depressing person (is that a word? It so should be).**

Derek passed the chart to the nurse, and lifted his head to catch sight of Cristina coming towards him. He smiled mischievously.

"You haven't been in my bed for such a long time, Cristina. I'm almost starting to miss you."

"Death and Die aren't enough for you?"

"They have their charm, but none of them give me the outright hatred I crave." He chuckled, and Cristina gave a derisive snort. They heard laughter behind them as Death and Die themselves giggled their way through the automatic doors.

"Hey, look," Sadie called, "It's a triple 'D' – Death, Die and Derek!" They burst into fits of laughter and kept walking.

"Mer. It's Mer. Just Mer. Is that a difficult concept to grasp? It's only three letters. M. E. R. How hard can that be?" Cristina muttered to Derek.

"She finds 'out' hard, too." Derek replied with mock sadness. As he finished speaking, Hunt walked by. He paused, looking as if he wanted to say something, and continued walking.

"What is it, Let's All Annoy Cristina Day?" Derek gave her a quizzical look.

"I didn't see anything particularly annoying about the way he walked. Or was I just not looking hard enough?"

"Oh, shut up," Cristina snapped, storming off, leaving Derek behind, deep in thought.

**Sorry they're all so short. But, did it make you laugh? Tell me. Review. Yeesh, I sound like an insurance advert or something!**


	3. Counting

**Author's Note: I know this chapter is still really short, but it couldn't really be drawn out any more; it would have been tedious. So don't flame me.**

Cristina struggled to tie her surgical gown behind her neck. The string just would not tie.

She felt warm fingers on her neck, and twisted her head over her left shoulder, trying not to flinch. It was Hunt. What was he doing?

'Dr. Hunt,' Cristina nodded in recognition.

'Dr. Yang.' He didn't even smile at her. She turned her head back to face the ambulance bay, trying not to think about his fingers tying the straps on her neck.

One.

She could feel the warmth of his fingertips, probably about 97°. She felt an almost tangible imprint of his fingerprint on her skin as it brushed against her.

Two.

His knuckles slid across half a centimetre of her skin, and she repressed a shiver, trying to breathe normally.

Three.

Hunt removed his hands, and Cristina felt a deep emptiness as her skin tingled.


	4. Watching

**Author's Note: I have written a long chapter! Yay! I couldn't exactly remember the quote, but the general gist is there.**

I looked at him as I rested my cheek against my hand. When was the last time someone told me I was beautiful? Had there been one?

He watched his hands, and I watched him. I studied the contours of his face, the setting of his mouth, the blue of his eyes, and that tinge of copper in his hair.

'I think you're beautiful too,' I whispered to him. Finally, he turned, locking his azure eyes onto mine, and smiled. I returned the gesture, feeling slightly foolish. I hadn't done this for so long; I had completely forgotten how it felt. It had never really been this way with Burke. Hunt made me feel free, and different. He even made me feel beautiful. Burke had encased me in our own closeted world, and I never realised how much I hated it until I was free to breathe for myself again. Hunt would never do that to me. This thought compelled me to be closer to him, so I rested my head against his shoulder and sighed.

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing is wrong. It's an invigorating feeling. I wish life could always be this way.'

'Well, why can't it be?' I looked up, and found him studying my face.

'Because soon we're going to have to stand up, you will leave, and I'll go into my flat and contemplate the fact that Meredith and I truly fought for the first time, one of the interns nearly died today because the others were trying to take her appendix out when they felt we weren't teaching them anything, and I'm never going to be considered for the solo surgery.' Hunt waited as I vented, then shook his head.

'You don't need a solo surgery, you performed one today, under much more demanding circumstances than normal. The intern _nearly_ died, she is going to be fine. You've sorted out your interns, and you and Meredith will sort yourselves out too. You've had enough stress for one day, you just need to relax.' Why couldn't every person in the world be exactly like him? Even if what he was saying didn't exactly help, at least he made an effort. He tried.

'It's hard for me to relax.' He smiled at me.

'I'll help you,' he whispered. He turned his head and pressed his lips against mine. I can't say I relaxed, but I was definitely distracted. My head was spinning and my breathing constricted, but I liked it. I couldn't remember ever feeling this way, and it certainly wasn't something I wanted to forget. I found his hands and twisted our fingers together, intending never to let go.

We broke apart, our breathing ragged, but our hands remained entwined. I stared hungrily into his eyes for some recognition that he was feeling the way I was. Hunt gave a breathless laugh and rested his forehead against mine. Still out of breath, I spoke.

'What would you do if I had a panic attack?'

'Nothing, I'd be staring at you in shock.' He laughed again.

'What do you mean?'

'You would _never_ have a panic attack. I don't think you physically could. Sure, you can worry as much as the next person, but you don't panic. It's one of the things I like about you.' I smiled, and removed my forehead to place it next to his neck. I could feel his pulse, faster than it normally would be, under his skin. He pressed his lips against my hair, and then rested his head upon mine.

The door next to us suddenly opened to reveal one of the people from my apartment building. Her eyes widened when she saw us.

'Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to –'

'It's fine,' Hunt said, rising. Our hands were still joined, so I stood with him. 'I should be leaving anyway.' I looked at him in shock, and I barely noticed the woman slip past us, still muttering apologies.

'What? Why are you leaving?'

'It wouldn't be appropriate for me to come in.' This reminded me of what I'd said to Meredith earlier. _You're not an attending, Meredith. You may be sleeping with one, but that doesn't make you one._ That needed to be sorted out. And he was right. But I didn't have to sleep with him, did I?

'Just for a coffee,' I pleaded. I hated myself for it, but I needed him to stay. He looked at my desperate expression.

'Just one.' I grinned, and pulled him with me through the door.


	5. Coffee

**Author's Note: A bit of a break from the romantic life, just to mix it up a bit. Aren't you proud of me? It's another long one. I'm on a roll here.**

I looked up from my coffee mug as I heard shuffling footsteps. Lexie wandered in, looking exhausted. She paused when she saw me.

'Oh. Hi Meredith.' She looked afraid. Was I really that scary? Maybe Derek was right, I should be nicer to her. She _was_ my sister, after all. Could I do that? I may as well try.

'Good morning, Lexie. Did you sleep okay?' Now she looked petrified. Why was she scared, I was being _nice_ to her. This was far too difficult.

'Um, yeah. The bed was great.'

'Oh, you can thank Derek for that.' I smiled at her. _See? This isn't so hard._

'Look, Meredith, I know we've never exactly been friends. But, thank you. For letting me stay. In your house. I needed that.' She spoke in a rush, letting it all out before she lost the courage.

'Well, you're welcome. But next time, try not to kill anyone before I invite you in.' She gave a tentative laugh, and seemed to relax. 'Do you want something to eat?'

'Yeah, that would be good. I haven't eaten since…well, for a very long time.'

'Is oatmeal okay?'

'Yes, fine.' I placed the bowl in front of her, and sat down opposite. We ate and drank in silence, until,

'Why do you hate me, Meredith?' I looked at her over my coffee mug, deciding how best to answer.

'I don't hate you –'

'You used to.' I nodded.

'I used to hate you, but I don't hate you any more. I think I've got used to the idea of you being around.' I paused, stirring. 'I think I resented you. For being that lucky daughter, with the nice family and the smiley-faced posters on your bedroom wall. It was just too strange, you being there in Seattle Grace. The place I was supposed to leave my mark on. And you were going to take that away. Oh, I know you didn't want to,' I said as she tried to protest, 'but that's the way I felt. But I've got over my jealousy now. And you are my sister. So I sort of have to be nice to you.' She smiled as I spoke.

'So what do we do now?'

'I don't know. Talk, I guess. Get to know each other. Be civil.'

'That sounds okay. And Meredith, I'm sorry about the whole appendix thing. I was being stupid. Sadie was just so willing. And…'

'Lexie, it's fine. I forgive you. Sadie has been acting strange lately, don't beat yourself up about it.'

'Thanks.'

'I'm your sister, it's my job.' _When did we make the leap from enemies to sisters? How did I miss that? It just felt so natural._ Lexie looked relieved by this statement, and almost as confused as I was.

'Morning, ladies.' I jumped as Derek spoke, unaware that he had entered the room. He must have heard, judging by the look on his face. 'How's our stray?' This was directed at me.

'She's doing well.'

'Wait, are you talking about me?' Lexie asked, sounding confused. Derek and I laughed.


	6. Bathroom Floors

**Author's Note: This chapter continues from the last a little, and incorporates earlier chapters a bit. But it's long, which is good. Some MerDer to shake up that Christmas snow globe.**

I looked up from my mother's diary, and shifted slightly on the uncomfortable floor. Derek gave a tired sigh, and straightened from where he had been leaning against the doorway.

'You don't have to do this, you know,' he told me.

'Do what?'

'This. Read in the bathroom. I've always got enough sleep before; you don't have to sit in here.' He wandered over, and sat down next to me.

'You're a neurosurgeon. You, more than anyone, need to sleep.' He sighed again, and kissed me.

'Meredith…'

'Yes?'

'How do you stand this? My ass hurts already.' I laughed and laid my head on his shoulder. 'So how is she?' I gave him a quizzical look. 'Your mother,' he explained.

'She's…being my mother, as always.' I could see Derek smiling out of the corner of my eye.

'So we're friends with Lexie now?'

'She's not that bad. The idea of having a sister still scares me.'

'You? Scared?' I whacked him.

'I've been scared before. I just don't tell you. I was scared today, with Sadie…' Derek put his arm around my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. I put my arms around his waist and buried my head in his chest. 'And when I fought with Cristina.' Derek lightly pushed my hair back from my face.

'What did you fight about?'

'We just didn't take care of each other the way we should have, said things we didn't mean to say. But I hate fighting with Cristina. We've always been there for each other, in our own twisted way.' Derek stared at me for a moment, making a decision.

'She hates Sadie.'

'What? Why?'

'She feels Sadie is taking you away from her. And she _despises_ the name Death. Cristina becomes jealous very easily.' I absorbed this. It made sense, if I thought about it. Cristina's behaviour had been so erratic. 'And I have a feeling something is happening with Hunt.' This I knew about. Well, I knew something _had_ happened, I had no idea what was going on now.

'I should talk to her.'

'Yes, but not now. Now, you're going to read to me.'

'Here?'

'Here.' He kissed my forehead, picked up the diary from where it lay on the floor and passed it to me. I rifled through the thick pages and began to read.


	7. Light

**Author's Note: MOST annoyed that I was deprived of **_**Grey's**_** for TWO WHOLE WEEKS, but the episode was worth the wait, so I'm in a good, fluffy mood. Tee hee.**

Cristina flicked through the pages of the chart the nurse had handed her. Mr. Raynard, 45, heart transplant candidate with a shattered elbow. Some people get all the luck. A hand appeared by her holding a coffee cup. The hand was attached to Owen.

'What's that?' It was a stupid question, she knew what it was. It was a cup of coffee.

'It's a cup of coffee,' he replied, confused as to why she was being so dim.

'Yes, but why is it here?'

'I…brought you a cup of coffee? How is that bad?'

'Don't bring me coffee.' She gave him a hard look and began to leave, but his hurt voice stopped her.

'Why? It's only caffeine.' She glanced at his face, and looked down again.

'Burke used to bring me coffee,' she whispered. Owen sighed and placed his arm around her waist.

'I'm not Burke, I'm Owen.' He handed her the cup, and she warily accepted it. 'And anyway, I bet this coffee tastes better.' She laughed with him, and took a sip. He was right, of course. His arm was still around her waist, and she noticed a few confused glances from passers-by.

'So when were we going to tell people about us?'

'Well,' he paused. 'I wasn't planning on _telling_ them, I was more inclined to let them figure out for themselves. We can't exactly walk around with sandwich boards saying 'We're together', can we?' Cristina laughed again. He made her laugh so easily.

'That sounds like a good plan.' Owen kissed her, and then he had to run back to his ER.

'I'll see you in the place with the food,' he called back to her. She giggled. Wait. She giggled? What was wrong with her?

***

Cristina stared at the x-rays before her, assessing the damage. She gasped as she felt arms slide around her waist, pinning her hands to her stomach with their own. She could feel Owen's breath on the side of her face and relaxed into him.

'What are you doing in here, Miss Cardio?'

'The Chief still wants me to 'stretch my surgical gloves' so I'm stuck doing Ortho on heart transplant patient.' Hunt laughed, burying his face in the nook between her neck and her shoulder.

'You sound like you're loving it. Will you still be Orthoing this evening?'

'I'd better not be, or I may scream. Why?' She rolled her head back onto his shoulder, closing her eyes on the blinding light-box. Everything was so easy with him.

'Come to dinner with me. I'm craving a steak.'

'_You're_ taking time off to go out to dinner with _me_.' Owen lifted his chin to rest it on her shoulder, and Cristina turned her head to look at him.

'I have to sleep sometime.' He grinned at her. She laughed again.

'Fine, I'll come.' He straightened up, smiling. His arms gave her waist a squeeze.

'Find me when you're shift is over. Have fun with that elbow.' He released her and hurried out of the room past a frozen Meredith in the doorway.

'I will.' Cristina turned, and caught sight of Meredith's shocked expression. For some reason, she suddenly felt guilty.

'When were you going to tell me about _that_?' Meredith asked, in what she hoped was a level voice.

'It only happened yesterday,' Cristina muttered bitterly, turning and pulling the x-rays away from the light.

'It certainly doesn't _look_ like it only happened yesterday,' Meredith countered.

'Looks can be deceiving,' Cristina said pointedly. Meredith looked at her hands, shamed.

'Is he nice?'

'_No_, he's the vilest person I've ever met.' Meredith looked up and smiled weakly at Cristina.

'I'm sorry.'

'I know.' They watched each other for a while, and then embraced each other. They remained that way for a minute until Meredith linked her arm into Cristina's.

'Tell me about him.' She demanded.

**Yes, I know, I can feel the lovely (or in some cases choking) fluff. But I LIKE it!!!**


	8. Bound

**Author's Note: Extremely sorry about the misspelling of Cristina (see? No 'h'.)****, I have made corrections to all of my chapters. Maybe it's because I live in England, but that's just how everyone spells it here. So if you see any other things that look weird, like extra 'u's (favo**_**u**_**rite) or 're' instead of 'er' (centimet**_**re**_** rather than centimet**_**re**_**), I'm really sorry, that is just how I've been taught to spell words. Don't hate me because of where I live!!! *Cowers*. Oh, and ax**_**e**_** as opposed to ax. Not…quite sure where I'll ever use that, but just bear it in mind…**

Lexie's ear was pressed against something warm, but it wasn't soft enough to be a pillow. It felt like…a body. Who's body? She was far too comfortable to open her eyes. As she lay there, whatever she was lying on rose up and down in a steady rhythm, and beneath her she could feel the steady thrum of what she supposed was a heartbeat. How could she not know whose heart that was? She knew who she _wished_ it belonged to – or who she would have wished for, once.

Lexie forced her eyelids open. Of course, reality is never what you wish for. Last night hit her brain, and she repressed a groan. She felt so deeply embarrassed. And yet, she couldn't say she hated it at all. Sloan's blue eyes glinted at her, and she felt a blush creeping across her cheeks. Sloan raised his eyebrows at her.

'Little Miss Good has been awfully bad lately,' he teased her. 'Underground surgeries, sleeping with attendings – '

'I only slept with one attending!'

'If you say so.' He flashed his perfect teeth at her.

'You know, you're not as vile as you think you are.'

'Oh, believe me, I am. And you don't help me with that. You make me break my promises.' Two small lines appeared between his eyebrows as he considered this.

'What promises?'

'Well, promise. I swore to Derek that I wouldn't sleep with Little Grey,' Sloan looked pointedly at her, 'which automatically made me want to. But I was being good, until you wanted me to 'teach you'. Surprisingly, you are very hard to say 'no' to.' Lexie became more confused as he spoke.

'Why did Derek make you promise _that_?'

'I have no idea, maybe something to do with Meredith. But I thought she hated you.

Basically, we can't tell him about any of this.' He seemed worried, and Lexie didn't want him to feel that way. She placed her hand on his forehead, attempting to soothe him.

'We won't tell him.' She smiled at him. At first, Sloan seemed disconcerted by her hand,

but soon he relaxed, closing his eyes. Lexie placed her cheek on his chest and listened to his breathing, feeling his ribcage rise and fall in time. She kept herself relaxed as Mark laid his hand over hers, pushing his fingers into the gaps. He lifted it and placed her arm over him. His breathing quickened with what were seemingly nerves. But Mark Sloan was never nervous, it didn't make sense. Lexie remained perfectly calm. Eventually, Mark's breathing slowed and Lexie curled herself around him. She felt his arm twine around her back, holding her to him. She felt so safe, and this confused her. She barely knew Mark, and she certainly didn't love him as she did George. And yet, the warmth of his arm, the crook of his elbow, they were like a home to her.

***

Lexie could hear Mark cursing, and she felt him crashing around the room. She sat up, and watched him stumble about, searching for something to wear. Her eyes strayed to the clock, and she realised why he was so frantic. She leapt out of the bed and scrambled on the floor for the clothes she had worn yesterday.

'It's eleven o'clock,' her voice was shrill.

'I know!' Lexie hoped that nobody noticed what she was wearing, or that both she and Mark were monumentally late. They ran down the stairs, Mark jumping the last few, not bothering to wait for the elevator.

Just catching the train, they sank into adjacent seats. Thankfully, the carriage was mostly empty. Everyone else was already at work. When she regained enough breath to speak, Lexie asked,

'Aren't they going to notice if we come in together, at the same time?' Sloan stared incredulously at her.

'That is the least of your worries. Cristina is going to _murder_ you, and I…well, I have no idea what I'm going to do.' Lexie let her head fall into her hands.

'This is _exactly_ what I need right now.' Mark rubbed her back to quiet her. She lifted her head and placed it on his shoulder, and he put his arm around her waist. Mark exhaled loudly.

'It will be fine. They can't fire us for being late.' He seemed to be convincing himself as much as her as he kissed the top of her head. Lexie wondered, could she possibly have feelings for Mark? He certainly made her happy. And his arm around her waist was so comforting. She pushed the thought out of her head. Mark Sloan was a womaniser; she couldn't allow herself to become attached to him.

***

They parted as they rushed towards the hospital, attempting to avoid suspicion.

'Where the hell have you been?' Cristina shouted at her.

'Sorry, I overslept.'

'You overslept? Well, that's fantastic for you, you get to work in the clinic today.' Lexie didn't complain, it would only make the situation worse.

Mark stood in front of the surgery board. Thankfully, he hadn't missed any surgeries. Derek appeared beside him.

'You're late.'

'I overslept.'

'With who?' Mark didn't look at him, and gave no answer. Derek's brow furrowed. Mark should have laughed and given him a name. Maybe he…no, he wouldn't. Not with Little – Lexie. Derek watched Mark's profile suspiciously.

**I even said elevator instead of lift. Admittedly, lift is a terrible word compared to elevator. But still, I try.**


	9. I Just Won The Game

**Author's Note: ****I JUST LOST THE GAME!! Hehehe. Anyway. Why does **_**Grey's**_** have to take a winter vacation? WHY??? Ah well, now I have plenty of time to basically make this into a story. Yay!!**

Derek watched Mark. He was there when Mark passed Lexie in the corridor. He saw the small glint of recognition in her eyes, although he could not tell if this was reflected in his friend's. He was there in the canteen as Mark and Lexie 'accidentally' bumped into each other, exchanging words that his eyes could not hear. And he was there in all of the intervening hours; watching Mark struggle to focus, his mind on something, or someone else. Derek considered this as he made his way across the hospital, searching for Meredith. He was almost positive Mark had broken his promise, but somehow he wasn't as angry as he should be. Something about Mark's distraction made him wonder if it was a good thing. He wasn't brushing it off and moving on – the way he had with every other woman in this hospital. Lexie occupied his mind. There must be something different this time, something that would turn Mark the Woman-Loving Robot into Mark Sloan Human Being.

These thoughts pushed against the inside of Derek's head as he caught sight of Meredith and wandered towards her. She greeted him with a kiss and allowed him to lead her out of the hospital. She didn't speak as they walked, hand in hand, towards the subway. She could tell Derek was thinking hard, his eyes unfocused as he trod across the familiar paving stones. The train was packed with people returning from work, and Meredith grimaced, remembering the peace of late shifts. She and Derek were crammed near the door, her head under his chin and her arms around his waist to hold herself up. She rested her head against his chest.

'What's wrong?' Derek looked down, wondering whether or not to tell her.

'Sloan.' Meredith stiffened.

'What did he do?'

''Who' would be more prudent.'

'Who?' Derek rested his chin on her head.

'Lexie. Or at least I suspect so.' He lifted his chin as Meredith glared at him. 'He promised he wouldn't, but I think he did. Maybe I should ask him before we assume.'

'Yes, please do ask him,' Meredith spat bitterly. 'If he…messes with Lexie's head…' She didn't need to continue.

'I'm sure it's nothing.' Derek doubted she believed him. _He_ wouldn't believe him. But it was easier this way. The rest of the journey passed in silence, apart from the surrounding chaos of screaming children, phone conversations and rustling newspapers. Once or twice, when she wasn't frowning, Derek caught Meredith watching the baby in the seat close to them with a thoughtful and almost caring look. He ignored this, he couldn't think of anything less helpful than a child in his current mindset. And she probably wasn't even looking at the baby. He pushed this thought out of his brain and concentrated on how to question Mark. What exactly was he supposed to say? He was angry with Mark for what he'd done, but he always remembered how Mark had been thinking about Lexie all day, and felt that this was a relationship he shouldn't put a stop to, however annoyed it made Meredith. If she wanted to protect Lexie she should do it herself.

***

Mark threw the chart onto his desk. He couldn't think about nose surgery any more. Fear was cocooning him in its suffocating tendrils, and he couldn't forget its existence by enveloping himself in work. He was afraid of Derek, what he would say, his anger and the loss of his friendship. But he was more afraid of Lexie, of what she did to him. His thoughts always led back to her, her face in his mind. No matter how hard he denied it, forced himself to think of something else, he was afraid of his feelings.

A knock on the door made him jump to his feet. He opened the door, repressing the fear rising in his throat as he saw Derek.

'Can I come in?' Mark merely gestured, unable to speak. Derek brushed passed him. He didn't appear angry, so maybe he didn't know about Lexie. Maybe he just wanted a friendly chat. Sloan pasted his usual cynical smirk onto his face, trying to act normal.

'Why have I been graced with your fabulous presence?' he asked, trying to be smooth and jeering, but failing somewhat.

'How's Lexie?' Derek asked suddenly. So he did know. Mark's grin vanished, and was replaced by a hard, defensive expression.

'No idea, I haven't spoken to her,' his voice was cold. Derek sighed.

'Look, Mark, I don't want to fight about this. Meredith doesn't want you to mess with Lexie's head. So if you can manage that, fine. Do whatever you want. Just don't hurt her.' Mark stared at him, stunned.

'You're just letting me off?' He started to laugh. 'Fine, I won't mess with Little Grey. I'll play nice.' Derek smiled with him.

'You'd better.'


	10. Clinging On For Life

**Author's Note: Some people are so demanding. Ok, ok, the Cri****stowen returns! (Yay!!!) MERRY CHRISTMAS or HAPPY HANNUKAH!!! This is my little (sadly, it's rather short, but never mind) present to you, hope you like it. Oh, and please review.**

Cristina opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room. The walls were a soft red, giving a pleasing effect on the light shining from the windows all around. The bed was warm, soft, set low into the floor. If she could only remember where she was, it would all be so much more enjoyable. She turned her head, and there on the bedside table was a photograph. Twenty men in army camouflage stood in proud salute. She picked out Owen, in the second row, smiling. She remembered where she was now. She studied the photograph carefully; examining the smile of every man she knew no longer lived.

She heard footsteps and turned to see Owen carrying two cups of tea. He smiled when he realised she was awake.

'I didn't know how strong you like it,' he passed a her one of the cups and climbed onto the bed beside her, 'so I hope it's okay.'

'It's perfect.' She smiled and curled up against him. As they sipped the scolding liquid, she reached out to pick up the photograph. 'What are their names?' she asked, watching him carefully. Owen placed his mug on the table beside him, and took the picture from Cristina. His eyes glistened, wet with tears he refused to shed. He pointed at the man standing to his immediate right.

'That's Berkeley. John Berkeley. We were the medics, and he was my closest friend.' He gave a breathless chuckle. 'He was the funniest person you would ever meet. He could make us all laugh, there in the trenches when we could here the guns behind us. I was the best man at his wedding. And I told his wife when he…' A tear escaped from the pool, and Cristina wiped it away, kissing his shoulder. She pointed to the man in the middle of the back row, his white teeth shining in his dark skin, his smile the biggest of any.

'Who's he?'

'Alan Syfrett, the man who can't stop smiling.' He rested his head on Cristina's, his tears dampening her hair. 'There's Alistair McKinley – I'd forgotten about him. _Never_ stopped complaining. But he never failed in a fight. Dominic Blastow, best cook anyone's ever known. He made fried rat taste good.'

'Fried _what_?' Owen almost smiled.

'Charlie Cohen – no, _Charles_ Cohen. How a man can stay so clean in a trench I have _no _idea. Frank Shoreditch, best aim a man ever had…' Cristina lay there with him as he told he the names and traits of every figure. She watched the silent tears sliding down his cheeks and felt glad that he wasn't alone in his grief, not any more. She promised herself that she would help him. Finally, Owen laid his head back, silent. 'Good men, all of them,' he told her. 'They didn't deserve to…die.'

'No-one does,' Cristina whispered, running her fingers through his hair. Owen looked at her.

'Thank you,' he croaked. She smiled, and wrapped her arms around him, rocking him gently. She stroked the back of his head as he sobbed into her shoulder, his arms clinging to her waist as if she were the only thing left in the world.


	11. Colorblind

'Time of death 02:47.' Dr. Shepherd turned away from the bedside, removing his gloves as he left the room. Meredith followed him.

'His blood type matches Bailey's patient,' she told him quietly.

'I know. You can go and tell her the good news.' Meredith turned her head sharply to look at his face. 'Tell her she has a new set of organs.' Meredith nodded, still silent, still confused as to why he wasn't angry. She turned left down a corridor as he moved straight on, searching for Bailey.

***

Meredith bumped into Derek as she exited the locker room. He put his arm around her waist and kissed her hair. 'What did she say?'

'She hugged me.' Derek laughed. They began to walk through the corridors of the hospital.

'At least she's happy.' Meredith rested her head against his shoulder rather than crane her neck to watch his face. He spoke again, unexpectedly; 'I'm happy.'

'I'm happy too. Except I think your mother hates me,' she finally looked at him, smiling. 'But it doesn't matter.'

'Believe me, she likes you.' He returned her smile.

'I'm not convinced, but I trust your judgement of your mother more than my own.' They were silent for a time, walking, listening to the sounds of the hospital. Although most patients slept soundly, there was no silence. Nurses made their night rounds, doctors were running to answer pages, and they stepped aside as a trolley bearing an unconscious man rushed past them. No matter how many people died within its walls, the hospital lived. Meredith wondered why every hospital was white. What was the point? A hospital was the one place where there was blood, sweat, tears, and more. How many white bed sheets had been permanently stained red? How hard did the cleaning staff have to scrub the floors before all traces of the last patient were gone? Derek's voice woke her conscious mind again.

'I'll drive.' He walked to the side of her car, which had appeared before them without her realising, and held the door open for her. She climbed in and waited as he walked around to the opposite side. He pulled the door shut, inserted the key, and she felt the car rumble beneath her. She watched Derek's hand on the gearstick as he drove. His grip was firm and confident, but she could tell he preferred the delicate handle of a scalpel. She placed her hand over his and her fingers slotted perfectly between his knuckles. He glanced away from the road to smile at her, a contented smile. He was not angry. His mother's visit had changed him. Meredith rubbed her thumb in small circles across Derek's hand as he drove, shedding a smile of her own. Everything was going to be back to normal soon, but with necessary changes. She and Derek were happy; Cristina was speaking to her again. Her thumb maintained its soothing motion and she watched Derek's face, relishing this moment of blind happiness.

Derek held the front door for her, and they sat together with their legs drawn up on the sofa, they're fingers interlocked.

'I have a present for you,' Derek said, looking slightly wary. Meredith shifted closer to him.

'What is it?'

'Ah, that would ruin the surprise.' Derek smiled. 'Please try to stay calm.' He sucked in a breath, holding it, and then let it go as he made the decision. He stood up, still holding one of her hands. Then he lowered himself to the floor so he rested on one knee. He saw Meredith's eyes widen, and stroked her hand to soothe her. He reached into his pocket for the ring his mother had handed him. He pulled it out and held it in front of Meredith, watching her eyes as they stared at this small treasure on which their future hung. 'Meredith Grey, will you marry me?' She seemed to be taking steadying breaths, trying to order her thoughts before she answered. He would not push her. Ten seconds of silence followed his words, and he watched her watch the ring cradled between his fingertips. Finally, her eyes moved away and found his. They shined with tears and some deep emotion she could not name.

'Yes.' She choked out the word, and it was followed by a smile as she held out her left hand. 'Yes, I will.' Derek rested his forehead against her hand for a moment, silently thanking her, and then pushed the ring onto her finger. They stood together and embraced. Both Meredith and Derek corrected their mistake. _Now_ they were happy.


	12. Kissing You

'Alex, we need to talk. About Izzie. I'm begging you Alex, which is hard for a dead guy, please don't hurt her. She doesn't need me any more, only you. Don't hurt her the way I did, even though I never meant to leave her. I know you can't hear me, or maybe you just don't want to listen, but please try to remember this. Remember the dead man's message.'

Izzie returned carrying two glasses and the bottle of tequila and found Alex exactly as she had left him. When he saw her, he stood up and placed a hand gently on either side of her face. He pressed his lips tenderly against hers, and she did not stop him. He slid his arms around her waist, bending her against him. Izzie broke her lips away from his, but he kissed her neck as she spoke, leaving burning trails across her throat.

'No tequila?' She laughed in his ear, her warm breath tickling his skin.

'No tequila,' he whispered. She stretched to place the bottle and glasses on the table by the door, but Alex would not release her, making it difficult. She set them down with a thud, and immediately he pulled her back to him. He kissed her again, pulling on her bottom lip with his teeth, and she gasped, but not in pain. She could feel the bones of his hips as he pressed against her, pushing the door shut. He turned them and they sat at the end of the bed, Alex still refusing to let her go. One hand in her hair and one rubbing a circle on the small of her back, he ran his lips from the smooth hollow behind her ear down her cheekbone and back. He whispered, 'I love you, Izzie. And your mine now, I don't have to share you any more.' Alex knew everything about her. He noticed the small things that no other person did. He knew more than she did about her emotions, her reactions, more than Denny had ever known. She saw that now, as clearly as he had seen, without her having to speak a word, that Denny was gone. Something she should have realised a long time ago.

'I'm all yours.' Her arms twisted behind his neck and she drew his lips to hers once more. They fell back onto the bed, completely alone.


	13. Addictive

**Author's Note: Happy New Year everybody!! I know it's late, but I was hibernating. Now I have been rudely awakened by a new school term and the joyous prospect of work, when all I want to do is read **_**The Bell Jar**_** and **_**Atonement**_** (two EXTREMELY good books you should look into if you haven't already). But I have uncurled from my nest of pyjamas, my cat, bed sheets, books, drawings, my cat, the beginnings of a novel, my cat, movie soundtracks, chocolate biscuits and my cat to bring you some well-earned fan fiction.**

'You're like a highly addictive, illegal drug.' Lexie flung her head back on the pillow and laughed at Mark's comment. He gave a wan smile.

'That's exactly what I wanted to hear, Dr. Sloan. I suppose it's a good description, despite the fact that I want to hit you.' Even Mark was laughing now. He moved his weight off his elbow to lie down next to her, draping an arm over her waist. He seemed to be thinking.

'I told Mrs. Shepherd about you.' Lexie stopped laughing to stare at him. 'Well, when I say 'told', I mean she…extracted the information from me. She is like my mother, but extremely perceptive.'

'That must be awkward. What did she say?'

'She approves. Apparently you're a 'nice girl'. She's obviously less perceptive than I thought.' Lexie giggled.

'And what did she say about you?' Mark remained silent. She poked his chest. 'Tell me!'

'I have the mind of a horny fifteen-year-old.' Lexie began to laugh so hard, she rolled off the mattress onto the floor. She lay there, incapacitated. Eventually, she gathered enough breath to choke out,

'I like this woman.' Sloan rolled his eyes and pulled her back onto the mattress. He held her close to him.

'Quiet, Little Grey, or I won't let you on my case today.'

'That's mean.' She rested her cheek against his collarbone and felt the heat emanating from his skin. On a sudden impulse, she kissed the hollow behind the bone, feeling the smooth skin of his shoulder brush against the tip of her nose. She draped one of her arms around his neck and rested her nose in the safe hollow. Mark didn't smell like a typical doctor, no antiseptic air lingered. He smelled like soap and bed sheets and all of your wildest imaginations, woven together into an intoxicating, irresistible scent that numbed Lexie's thoughts. Perhaps this was how he seduced all those women. Dully, her mind fogged by the aroma, she wondered if Mark smelt this way to everyone. Was it something only she knew of? How could you be close to him and not be drawn into its confusing but welcome clutches? Mark shifted her in his arms so she was cradled against him, his lips resting on her hair. These were here favourite moments with Mark. She enjoyed all the time she spent with him, but when he held her close, and she breathed him in, the rest of her life seemed insignificant. As she hooked her leg over his, she realised how attached she was. Becoming involved emotionally with Mark Sloan had not been an option, but now that she was here, she didn't want it to end. So what if he broke her heart in the end? It was worth it while it lasted. And maybe it wouldn't end badly; perhaps she would make an honest man of him. Lexie laughed under her breath. The words 'Sloan' and 'honest' did not fit into the same universe.

Mark shifted beside her. She knew why.

'I should go before Derek and Meredith wake up.' He started to untangle himself, but Lexie held on to him.

'Why? Why do you have to leave? The worst they can do is be angry. Why can't you just tell them about me? About…us.' Sloan looked at her eyes as they pleaded with him. He did not want to be in this situation with anyone, least of all Lexie.

'I will tell them. Later. Not right now.' He stood up and dressed. Lexie watched him, and she knew she had said the wrong thing, showed too much emotion. Now he wouldn't speak to her all day in an attempt to distance himself from her, then he would not be able to control himself in the evening, and was she was unable to say no. Tomorrow morning she would wake up with Mark Sloan, and it would be exactly the same.

Sloan crossed the room to the door and listened to check the coast was clear. When he was certain, he turned awkwardly to Lexie.

'I'll…see you later.' She nodded, and he opened the door and ran as quietly as he could out of the house. Lexie laid her head back on the pillow, feeling the tears seep out of the corners of her eyes. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid to believe he cared. She was a game, and he was seeing how long he could play before he got caught out. A sob escaped her. She turned over and buried her face in the pillow, crying for a heart that was soon to break.


	14. Nightswimming

**It****Author's Note: I'm making up for lost time here by doing LOTS AND LOTS all at once. If you haven't realised, from chapter ten onwards, all chapter titles are song titles. And they are all songs I advise you to listen to. To all **_**NCIS**_** watchers: do CafPows really exist and, if so, WHERE CAN I GET THEM??? Also, a special thanks to IlovetowriteSMP for your constant support and helpful, literary reviews.**

Cristina dropped Owen's tie to the floor of the shower. His tears were indiscernible from the tears running down his face, but his agony was plain in the sobs that racked his torso, and the deep furrows carved between his eyebrows like the roads to Hell. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and it fell with a splash. It did not matter to either of them that the water was freezing. It washed across their faces, trickling into their clothes. Cristina was ignoring her shivers and Owen was standing oblivious, his mind running in furious circles through his memories.

She kissed his lips softly, trying to drag him out of his misery. She kissed him more forcefully as she peeled the saturated fabric of his shirt away from his dripping skin. It made no difference. He was still locked in sorrow, unable to respond, and she was searching desperately for the key. She ran her fingers over his shoulders, down his muscled arms, and gripped his hands. She squeezed them, trying to wake him. When nothing changed she resisted the urge to dig her nails into his skin in frustration. Instead, she lifted his arms as though he were a puppet and placed them around her waist. He made no effort to remove them, but he did not give any sign that he realised he had been moved. Blinking droplets of water out of her eyes, Cristina looked up towards his face. She cupped one hand over his cheek and stroked it with her thumb, attempting to coax a reaction out of him. The stubble tickled her skin pleasantly, but his eyes were blank and glassy, his thoughts projected inwards. She could not tell what these thoughts were, but she knew they were causing him pain. It was this pain she wished to soothe.

She brushed her lips across the bridge of his nose, down his temple and along his cheekbone. He did not blink. Her free arm wrapped around his waist to pull herself closer to him. She pushed him roughly against the tiled walls of the shower, but she kissed him sweetly, lover to lover, moving her lips across his, parting them –

Suddenly Owen gripped her waist. His strong arms pulled her to him, and he returned her kiss with a passion they had both believed him incapable of. His hands pulled at the base of her shirt and she lifted her arms above her head. The sodden garment fell with a noise they did not hear. Owen was definitely alive, definitely _there_ as he pushed her now bare back onto the cool ceramic tiling, her face cradled between his hands. His kiss was filled with both lust and the love they had tripped on together.


	15. You Blew Me Off

**Author's Note: Now I know many of you are nudging me towards the Cristowen again, but inspiration comes where inspiration comes. Also, I'm a great fan of Mark and Lexie, and they're very interesting to write about. Finally, if you want to know who the songs I've used as titles are by and want to listen to them (you definitely should), they are on my profile.**

'You're such a commitment-phobe,' Callie told him, laughing.

'Why do women always say that? Why do I have to commit, and to what exactly? Seriously, the word 'commit' is terrifying.'

'Exactly.' Mark frowned at Callie in complete confusion. She laughed at his expression, and spoke as she left the elevator: 'You probably shouldn't see her tonight. She's not going to be happy.' The doors closed them off from each other, and Mark was left alone tying to understand what she had said.

As he was flicking through a patient's chart, Lexie appeared beside him. Mark noticed her hair had the faintest of red hues under the hospital lights, then pushed the thought out of his head. She was smiling at him, but it looked forced. Her eyes shined more than usual, and he thought they were slightly wet.

'I checked the patient in room 112, everything is normal. She should be ready for her surgery this afternoon.' Mark nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He handed her the chart he held and, as he did so, their fingers brushed against each other. Her skin was soft and warm and suddenly the only thought he had was whether her hair still smelled of flowers and musk, the way it had when he'd kissed it this morning. He had to grip the edge of the Pit on his left to restrain himself from leaning in to check. Lexie was watching his hand curiously, and she directed her question towards it.

'Shall I get the results, Dr. Sloan?' She looked up at his face, giving no indication that any of that morning's events had occurred.

'Of course,' Sloan snapped. 'Next time, don't ask, just do it.' Lexie nodded, completely composed, carefully veiling her inner emotions. She turned and headed down the corridor. Mark leant against the Pit, trying not to shake, and saw Callie striding towards him, smirking. She had seen and heard everything.

'This is impossible,' he muttered to her.

'It's karma.'

'I've done nothing wrong!' he protested. Callie raised her eyebrows. 'Okay, fine, I'm a terrible person. I'm going to eat now.'

'Are you going to sit alone?' Callie called after him. What exactly was that supposed to mean? He always sat alone.

When he arrived in the cafeteria, having been delayed by the Chief, he understood. As soon as he entered the room he saw her, or more precisely, his eyes were drawn to where she sat, laughing with her fellow interns. Her teeth were extremely white against her dark tresses. He grabbed the first things his hands came into contact with and dropped them on his tray, watching her all the while. _You sleep with me, you eat with me._ Mark clenched his teeth, mentally preparing himself, then strode towards her table, heading for the empty seat to her right. As he slid his tray down next to hers, five eager pairs of eyes stared up at him.

'Hi,' he said self-consciously as he sat down, avoiding the gazes of the other interns and looking only at Lexie.

'Hi.' She smiled, genuinely this time. 'I didn't know you like tofu.' Mark looked down at his tray, then back at her, exasperated.

'I don't.' She giggled.

Mark and Callie sat in Joe's, drinking in silence. They both had their eyes carefully averted from the intern corner.

'Remember what I said,' Callie ordered.

'I didn't understand what you said, so I'm not going to remember it. But I do know I ate lunch with five interns, and for that I deserve a reward.'

'Fine, I'll buy you a drink.'

'You know what I mean.' Callie sighed and turned her head to look at him.

'Do. Not. Do. It.' Mark avoided her gaze, sucked a breath through his teeth and stood up. Callie let out a sort of strangled scream, which Mark ignored.

'I'm doing it.' He turned and headed towards Lexie. About ten feet away she noticed him approaching. He nodded and turned towards the door; she extricated herself from her friends and followed him. They walked in silence down the dark street, side by side, not touching, not looking at each other. When they reached Lexie's car Mark walked round to the driver side with her and opened the door. Lexie was thrown by the unusual politeness, but began to clamber into the vehicle. She was stopped by Mark's hand on her arm. He was standing very close to her, his eyes making contact with her own.

'I'll tell Derek about us tomorrow,' he whispered, and kissed her.


	16. Daysleeper

**Author's Note: Ok, ok, you can have your Cristowen. I think I have an unhealthy obsession with the **_**Cruel Intentions**_** soundtrack. I have listened to it over and over again non-stop for the past two weeks. It's not normal. Sadly, this is exactly what happened with the **_**Romeo+Juliet**_** soundtrack. I think soundtracks have a highly addictive drug in their sound waves…Well, as my dear friend said, my muses are oan FIRE this weekend, so have another chapter.**

Owen ran his fingers through the thick black curls scattered across his chest. Cristina's breathing was deep and even. He watched the steady rise and fall of her shoulders draped over his ribs. Ever so softly, he brushed the raven locks away from her beautiful face. She shifted slightly in her sleep, and his hand paused in the air. When he was sure she would not wake, he began to stroke her cheek with his thumb in time with her breathing.

He remembered when he'd met her, an icicle in her abdomen and anger in her veins. He recalled with chagrin the lurch his stomach had given, and the addling of his brain. He'd been helpless against his own body; his mouth had a mind of its own. He hadn't intended to kiss her – his limbs overcame his will. But he knew his will had secretly been batting for the other side. And his will was certainly strong when he had taken the job at Seattle Grace. His will, his limbs, his heart; they were all in on that one. The only one left behind was his mind; it had no idea what was going on.

Cristina moved again, stretching so her head rested in the crook of his neck. He tightened his arm around her waist as her breath warmed his skin. Everything about Cristina was warm, including her heart. You merely had to crack the hard, protective exterior that came from heartbreak in the past. He ran his fingertips over the smooth curve of her back and, on the edge of consciousness, she arched it. Her breaths came quickly now, and he knew he had less than a minute before she woke and he would be unable to watch her mind and body at peace any more.

She groaned, stretching her arms and legs, pointing her toes, but her eyes remained closed.

'Good morning,' he whispered. She groaned again, opened her eyes, and used his chest to push herself up on her arms. She looked at him for a few seconds through a haze of sleep, and collapsed across his chest again. He laughed and she slapped him weakly. 'Not a morning person?'

'Shut up.'

'Maybe I'll leave before you get up and decide you want to throw something at me.'

'I hate you.' He laughed again, causing her head to bounce. She flung herself off him and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling. Owen turned his head to look at her, and she turned hers so their noses brushed against each other.

'I'm sorry I ruined our date.' She rolled her eyes at him and slid an arm over his chest again, curling up to his side.

'It's better this way. At least I didn't have to ask you what your favourite thing is about being a surgeon.' He thought for a moment.

'That would have been embarrassing.' She slapped him again, but she was smiling. 'I'll make it up to you next time.'

'Give me a couple of weeks – I need to think of something normal to say,' she mumbled into his shoulder.

'What about tonight? Can you think of something by then?'

'Well, that depends on where you're taking me.'

'Dinner and I'll be sober.'

'Some conversation could be arranged.' He smiled, turning onto his side. He put his hands on her waist and pulled her up so her face was level with his.

'But, as our shifts don't start for a few hours, what are we going to do with ourselves in the meantime?' he asked, a wicked smile on his face.

'Make coffee and good conversation?'

'Wrong answer, Dr. Yang.'


	17. Catching The Butterfly

As I turned the yellowing page it rustled between my fingers. He stirred gently, his arm curling closer to my back. One of my hands held the small diary; the other stroked his cheek absent-mindedly. His skin was that of a man who had not slept well for a long time, but it felt smooth beneath my palm.

_Richard and I have discovered that the on-call room was not made for sleeping…_

I could never hand this book back to Meredith without laughter and guilt. She would despise it. I paused to rest my eyes, and I listened to his breathing. It pulled in, smoothly and deeply, and escaped like a wave hitting the shore. The soft hiss of air lulled me into sleepy haze. I could feel the pulse in my thumb as it pressed against the hard edge of his jaw.

I started. My head had rolled to one side and the diary was lying across his back. I picked it up, and laid it on the bed next to me. I looked down at him. He was curled against me like a child, his face peaceful. Not for the first time, I wondered what had triggered his reaction. I had never seen him afraid. Sad, tired, fragile, yes. But never afraid. It generated a strange need to protect him. I wrapped my arms around him shield him from things I did not know, and with them I was guarding both of us. He groaned and moved again, and only then did I realise I had been gripping him with my fingers, terrified of letting go.

I had woken him, and he was attempting to lift himself up on his hands. I pushed him gently down again.

'Cristina,' he mumbled.

'Shh,' I replied. He suddenly clasped my hand where it lay on his shoulder. I closed my fingers around his and ran my thumb back and forth. I did not want him to wake yet; watching him sleep gave a serene quality to my thoughts. He slipped his legs beneath my raised knees, and we lay there, entwined once more. His head was now cradled between my collarbone and my neck, and I rested my cheek against his.

'She's here.' He paused. 'I don't want to see her.' I pulled him even closer.

'You don't have to. You can stay here with me.'

He sighed. 'I can't leave her. It's wrong.'

I paused, wondering if I should ask. If you don't ask, you won't know. 'Who is she?'

He turned his head into my neck, and I understood. Sometimes, even if you do ask, you still won't get an answer.

**Author's Note: I'm sorry this one is so short. It was just impossible for me to write. But I had to write something. The episode before last rendered me incapable of doing anything, let alone fan fiction, so that was abandoned. So this time I had to post at least one chapter out of courtesy, but the last two episodes have been so well written, there was not much I could add. So, I'm sorry for such atrocious length.**


	18. The Drugs Don't Work

**Author's Note: I AM BACK!!! You have no idea how hard THAT was. But that's the point, so I won't complain. Now I said it would be there yesterday, but in the typical manner of our rubbish internet connection, the Livebox thingy has finally gone kaput, so welcome to the land of the internet café. Thank goodness they open on a bank holiday. But I have no chocolate with me hear, sob sob. Mmmm…chocolate…**

I stroked the back of her hand with my fingertip, gliding over the dents in her knuckles. I watched her peaceful face as she slept, but winced when I caught sight of the bandages encasing her head. I longed to run my fingers through her hair and cup her cheek with my hand, but I knew it would be long before I did. If I did. But I refused to think about that. She would survive.

"Karev."

I turned at the sound of my name, and I saw Bailey rushing towards me, clutching a chart. She was frowning slightly, and I felt my stomach clench as she stopped in front of me, took a deep breath and removed one hand from the clipboard, ready to gesticulate.

"Karev, I'm sorry, but Izzy isn't taking the drugs very well. She isn't reacting as we'd hoped she would, _but_ we're going to keep going with the radiotherapy and try some different drugs and I'm sure-"

"Have you told Izzy yet?" I asked, averting my eyes from her and staring at the clean white wall of the hospital. I realized now why hospitals were white- you can look at them, and there is nothing to remind of why you are there. They are clean, meaningless. I relied on them now to keep the salt water inside my eyes.

"Uh, no, but I was wondering if you would like to be there when I did."

"Sure, let's go." I swung around and strode towards Izzy's room with Bailey scurrying behind me.

I paused momentarily, then pushed the door open. Izzy was sitting there expectantly, her new knitting sitting on her lap. She could tell from my expression that, whatever it was, it wasn't good, but I studied her as she pushed her fear away and prepared herself for the worst. Standing next to her bed, I took her hand, but realized my legs wouldn't hold much longer, so I pulled the chair towards me. I stroked her hand, just as I had before. But everything was different now.

Bailey began to speak, but I tuned her out. I couldn't hear it again. I looked at Izzy, and I saw how sallow her skin had become. Even so sick, she was beautiful. I watched her nod slightly as a resigned expression coated her features. She accepted everything thrown at her and never said a word.

Izzy and Bailey were staring at me, and I realized that tears were streaking my cheeks. Bailey left quickly, and I rested my head on the cool metal of the bed. Tentatively, Izzy laid her hand on the back of my neck. I gripped her fingers in mine as a sob escaped me. Izzy dropped her head on mine with a sigh.

"Alex," she whispered. I drew in a breath, before forcing myself to look at her. I couldn't place her expression. It looked almost like pity. She cradled my face in her hands and gently removed my tears with her thumbs. "Alex, whatever happens, even if I don't survive-"

I gripped her wrists and gave her a hard, pleading stare.

"Don't say that, Iz. You'll get through this. You have to." _I can't live without you._

"But what if I don't?" she was challenging me, trying to help me reach that stage. But that would be the only place I would not follow her.

"You are not going to die. But if heaven calls, then I'm coming too."


	19. How To Save A Life

**Author's Note:**** I hate it when they have weeks off, it makes me so lonely. But then when I watch it, it's so sad I cry anyway. Oh dear.**

I grabbed the bowl next to the bed, choking and retching as my insides contracted again. Just as I felt I was going to faint from the pain, it stopped. I dropped the bowl weakly onto the table and fell onto the pillows. It was the middle of the night and here I was, alone once more. Alex was on rounds, and even if he hadn't been he would only be here trying to find the right thing to do or say, which I just couldn't handle; Mer, Cristina and Lexie were probably all sleeping and George…well, I hadn't seen George since before I was sick. Why didn't he come? I needed George the most. He was my best friend, and he knew me. I knew if he came I would feel better – George always knows what to say. He knows what to do. He'd calm me down and cheer me up. But George didn't want to see me.

As my eyes filled with tears, I turned gingerly onto my side, but this triggered another wave of nausea and my hands fumbled for the bowl again. This one was worse than the last, and I sat there bent over the horrible plastic tub for over ten minutes, each twist of my stomach more violent. I wanted to scream, but my throat was blocked, my head was in too much pain to bear the noise and besides, I could barely speak. I barely had the energy to lift the bowl off my chest and onto the table for what must be the tenth time that night. My face was wet with tears, my head was pounding and my mouth was filled with the taste of acid. But despite this, I was finally exhausted and was dragged into sleep, away from the sickness for a few merciful hours.

*

The lids of my eyes were heavy, but I could sense someone was there in the chair, and I couldn't miss a visitor. I needed them. I forced my eyes open to see George sitting beside me.

'Hey, Iz.' Him being here and the sound of his voice made me want to jump up and jug him, screaming for joy. But I couldn't, so I gave him a weak smile and stretched out my fingers. He took the hint and grasped them. I clung to his hand with all the strength I had.

'I…I'm sorry I haven't been to see you before,' he said, looking impossibly guilty. 'I just – '

'It's okay,' I whispered, 'you're here now.'

He smiled gratefully, but I could still see the guilt in his eyes. 'I was angry at you, Iz. You told Cristina, but you didn't tell me. You didn't even like Cristina that much. Everyone kept saying you needed me, but, I thought, you didn't then so why would you now?'

'I should have told you. I should have told all of you, but I was scared. But I know now that I need you here with me. All of you, especially you, George.' I stared at him, hoping he would realise how much I wanted him to stay. He understood what I was telling him, just as I'd known he would.

'I'm not going anywhere, Iz. You can count on having to see my ugly mug every day.'

I managed a wheezy laugh, but inside I was thrilled. He wouldn't have to say a word; the fact that he would be there would be enough for me. For the first time since this illness had all begun, I felt truly happy. I may not live forever, but I'd have all the people I loved with me at the moments that mattered. I wouldn't be alone when the time came. _If_ the time came.


End file.
